Learning Curves
by Jim Greeno
Summary: Batgirl comes to a crossroads with her new mentor and turns to Nightwing for help.
1. Breaking Points

Wakefield Wharf is one of the few bright spots on the landscape of Gotham City. Its coastal area plays host to many stores and entertainment venues, and the boardwalk on its border is arguably Gotham's premiere tourist locale.

That's during the day.

When the last rays of daylight are absorbed by Gotham City's legendary evening shadows, Wakefield Wharf becomes something entirely different. The boardwalk is a hot spot for muggers and rapists, the outside of the Gotham Aquarium is a known hangout for one of the seedier local gangs, and the piers often become receiving docks for arms and drug shipments from Bludhaven and points south.

Much like New York City's Central Park, enjoy its many offerings during the day, but tread carefully at night.

Unless, of course, you happen to be the Batman.

Batman crouched on his perch atop a local museum, completely enveloped by the shadows around him. He hated Wakefield Wharf in the summer. The seeping heat and coastal mist combined to create a dank, humid environment that made him sweat much more than usual. Sweat underneath his fearsome cowl was always an unwelcome experience, causing the Kevlar/Nomex material to chafe his skin and scalp. Such was the life of a crimefighter, he supposed.

Because of his extreme dislike of the area's climate, Batman made it one of the sections of the city that was known to be *his*. His voice became deeper in the Wharf, he made his attacks more personal, his justice more severe. It was most often the criminals he caught in the Wharf that spoke of him as a demon or wraith, and he preferred it that way. The more forbidding his reputation in the area, the less frequent his visits would have to be.

As a result, Bruce Wayne would require fewer facials. Bruce Wayne hates facials.

The drug shipment that brought him to the Wharf had just arrived. The cargo ship docked at the pier directly across from his position was being prepared by its occupants for unloading. Seeing only seven men among the crew, Batman decided to wait until the buyers arrived. Taking down both sides of the deal might prevent him from having to return to the Wharf in the near future, he hoped.

For fifty minutes Batman stood stock still, barely appearing to breathe. When the buyers arrived, five men armed with handguns, he made his move. Kicking off from the museum rooftop, the Batman descended upon his opponents in a flash. Taking two out as he landed, he spun his right leg into a roundhouse to eliminate the two behind him. His foot connected with nothing but air. Turning in that direction, he found his two targets already unconscious on the cement.

Spotting an assailant near the pier approximately twenty yards from him with an automatic rifle aimed in his direction, Batman rolled into a forward somersault. In mid-rotation, he readied a batarang and came up throwing. His bat-shaped weapon flew true, but struck nothing, sailing directly into the bay with an anticlimactic *plop*. That man, too, had already been struck down.

Now aware of the situation, Batman grabbed the thug closest to him and pulled him into a vicious clothesline. He nailed yet another as he turned, catching him in the chin with an elbow. The two dealers still conscious decided to flee, and Batman stopped one with a well-placed batarang even as another batarang dropped the other.

Batman made a quick visual sweep to make sure his opponents were down for the count, then turned and addressed the shadows. "I see you there. You can come out now."

Batgirl complied, emerging from the dark void. She strode up to her newfound mentor casually, craning her neck to look up at him. His expression was not one of welcome.

"Your actions were dangerous and unnecessary, Batgirl. Interfering in my work can cause hesitation, and hesitation can result in death. You should know that."

She stared up at him defiantly. "Help."

Batman shook his head. "If I required your assistance, I would have called off your patrol and ordered you here. If you want to be a soldier in our crusade, you *will* learn to obey orders."

Batgirl pounded her fist into her palm. "Help!"

Batman's eyes narrowed beneath his cowl and his lips tightened into a thin line as he spoke, "You will not question my methods or orders, Batgirl. I'll take over your patrol. Go home." He moved away to begin tying up their fallen opponents.

"No."

Batman turned back to face her. "Excuse me?"

He could make out the scowl on her face beneath her mask as she spoke. "No! No soldier!" With that, she launched her grapnel and took to the sky.

He made no attempt to follow. She would need time to cool off. He would check up on her later.

Dick Grayson was having a good dream. In a few minutes he would recall only the vaguest of details…but he'd be sure that Barbara Gordon was there, and something about leather and chocolate syrup might ring a bell.

But for now, as he wrapped his arms around his Neverland lover, he just wanted to enjoy the sensation of companionship.

"I know this is a dream, Babs, but can I just lay here a while longer," he asked, his voice seeming to echo all around him.

"Normally I wouldn't protest, Boy Wonder, but we're not alone," she purred in response. "Can't you feel it?"

His sense of awareness snapped to attention, and he could feel another presence in the room. He became instantly clad in his Nightwing garb, escrima sticks at the ready.

"Aww, man. I have to wake up for this, don't I?"

Babs giggled adorably. "Afraid so, sleepyhead."

"I swear, if it's not noon, whoever's here is leaving with a splint."

His eyes snapped open and he released his affectionate grip on his pillow. Rolling out of bed, he pulled on his bathrobe and stopped short when he found the cause of his aborted nap. There, sleeping rather peacefully on his couch, was Cassandra Cain. He tiptoed quietly to the bookcase/door that separated his apartment from that of the fictitious Dr. Fledermaus. He opened it silently and slipped through, moving to his computer terminal in two quick strides.

Dick activated the icon on his desktop that connected him with Oracle. The line picked up and he was greeted by the rather tired-looking countenance of Barbara Gordon.

"Hi, Dick. Kinda busy this morning. What's up," she asked, stifling a yawn.

"You guys lose somebody last night," he asked in reply.

"She's there? Please tell me Batgirl is with you!"

"I didn't think she knew where I lived. But yeah, she's here, sleeping on my couch," he answered reassuringly.

"Why didn't you call me, Dick? We've been looking for her all night!"

"Hey, relax, Babs. She was here when I woke up just now. I have no idea when she got here. Any idea *why* she's here?"

Barbara sighed dramatically. "She happened onto the scene of Bruce's drug bust last night, helping out when she wasn't supposed to. He said he was 'stern' with her."

Dick's features took on a tone of concern and anger. "Understood. I'll take care of it, Babs."

"Okay, I'll let Bruce know she's with you."

Dick shook his head. "Don't. I'll call him after I talk to Cassandra. I don't want him coming here after her before she's ready."

"All right, but don't take too long. He won't say so, but he's worried about her. It's 11am and he's still on the rooftops looking for her."

"Just about serves him right," he replied. "I've got it under control. Go get some sleep, beautiful." He forced a grin and severed the connection.

After quickly dressing in some sweats, he re-entered his apartment and moved over to his sofa. Cassandra woke instantly and sat up as he approached. Dick smiled as he sat down in the armchair across from her.

"Busy night?"

"No. Sorry," she replied quietly.

"No need to apologize to me, Cassandra. You're always welcome here. Want to tell me what happened?"

Her eyes narrowed somewhat. "No."

Dick smiled slightly, realizing that he was playing the Alfred role after a young Robin had done something wrong on the streets. "Well, why did you come here? Babs wouldn't have let Batman bother you."

Cassandra locked eyes with him. "Learn partner."

"Huh?"

"Bat wants soldier. Saw files. Jason Robin, soldier. Tim Robin, soldier. Barbara Batgirl, soldier. Azrael, soldier. Soldier angry, sad."

Dick frowned. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Cassandra. Well all get angry and sad sometimes…"

"No!" She slid off the couch and knelt before him, placing her fist on his chest. "Robin, soldier. Azrael, soldier. Nightwing, *partner*!" She moved her hand from his chest to her own. "Learn partner."

Dick was taken aback. She wanted him to teach her how to be Bruce's partner. He'd never really thought of it in the terms she expressed. Tim was very much Bruce's partner, when Bruce allowed him to be. In the beginning, Bruce even sent Tim to Dick to learn how it's done. Dick had been flattered, and he was proud of everything Tim learned as a result, and thankful for the brotherly bond those early sessions fostered between them. Perhaps…

"Cass, being Batman's partner doesn't solve problems between you and him. Things like last night will still happen all the time."

"Learn partner, not Batman's partner. Saw files. Robin, Titans. Soldier with Batman. Partner with Nightwing; friend, team, respect…"

"…love," he finished for her. "I understand."

She didn't want to be Batman's partner. She wanted to learn to work with others, Bruce included. She didn't want to end up alone…

"So you want to learn how to be a partner, huh?"

"Yes," she smiled back, seeming relieved that he understood.

"And you want me to teach you?"

"Yes, teach."

"Y'know something, Cass? I think you've come to the right place." He gave her a wink, causing her smile to broaden a bit. "Are you ready to get started?"

"Yes." With that, Cassandra stood and began to move the couch, clearing a larger space in his apartment.

"Whoah there, Cass!" She stopped cold and turned to look at him. "What you want to learn doesn't take place in a dojo or on the practice mats. We both know there's nothing I can teach you that way. Being someone's partner is a full-time job, and you've got a long way to go."

Cassie nodded and sat back down.

Dick grabbed his cell phone. "Okay, first we've got to make two phone calls. The first one is to Batman, who's still out looking for you. And the second is for the big first step in your training. You go get cleaned up while I call Batman."

She made her way to the bathroom while he dialed and raised the phone to his ear.

"Batman here."

"Batman, it's Nightwing. Batgirl is with me here in Bludhaven," he said curtly.

There was a long pause before Batman's reply finally came. "And why didn't you call in?"

"She must've come in shortly after I did. She was asleep on the couch when I woke up."

"What is she doing there?"

"Cassandra came to me for help, Bruce. She and I will be working together for the next week or two. She'll be fine, and I'll keep you posted on her schedule."

Another pause. "Batgirl has responsibilities in Gotham."

Dick laughed aloud. "You're not even going to ask why she needs help, are you? I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt lately, Bruce. The rift between you and Alfred, between you and Tim…I haven't said anything because I figured, like you and me, that eventually you guys'd work it out."

"This has nothing to do with Tim or Alfred," Batman interrupted.

"You're right, it doesn't. It has *everything* to do with you, Bruce! You're pushing them all away, only to replace them with others who aren't as good. Why? Because the longer you know someone, the more you feel for them, and you can't deal with that! You brought in Stephanie and Sasha because they're ready to worship you, and you don't have anything emotionally invested in them. It didn't work with Jason; it didn't work with Jean Paul. You tried to replace me twice, and you're lucky I'm still here…what about Tim and Cassie? Will they stick around? What happens when Babs gets too close, huh? Can't exactly replace her with AOL, can you?"

"Dick, this isn't…"

"I'm not finished, Bruce. You wanna know why she came here? She wants to learn how to be someone's partner. She doesn't want to be one of your soldiers because they all end up angry and sad…discarded emotionally. She wants me to teach her to be like me. Not because I'm better, stronger, or faster, Bruce. She wants to be like me because she's *afraid* of ending up like you. Alone."

"I…I…I have to go, Dick," Batman replied somberly.

"Of course you do. Like I said, I'll keep you posted. Think about what I said…"

The line went dead. Dick activated the phone again and dialed another number.

"Lesson #1, coming right up," he said with a smile.

END PART 1


	2. Bare Essentials

Dick grabbed a towel from the dryer (well where do you keep YOUR towels?) and greeted Cassandra as she exited the bathroom.

"I called Batman and told him you'd be working here with me for the next couple of weeks, Cass. I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick. I made that other call, too. Someone's going to be stopping by in the next few minutes to bring us a training tool. It's all taken care of; just open the door when he gets here and he'll give it to you. It's Lesson #1, okay?"

Cassandra nodded eagerly and moved to stand by Dick's apartment door. Dick considered telling her she didn't have to wait there for the guy to show up, but thought better of it. 'Besides,' he thought to himself, 'she's safer by the door than exploring the apartment…the roaches are big enough to take her hostage.'

Dick fully intended to map out Cassie's training regimen as he let the hot water wash away the last remnants of sleep from his body. But his mandatory shower routine, holding the shower knob so it wouldn't fall off while singing "I'm Too Sexy" into the shampoo bottle, interfered with his dutiful intentions. He toweled off and dressed quickly in jeans and a favorite button-up. As he left the bathroom, he almost walked headlong into Cassandra, who was standing just outside the door with a flat square box in her hands.

"Whoa! That was almost a mess. You ready for your first lesson," he asked with a smile.

"Yes."

He took the box from her hands and ushered her to the couch. Setting the box on the coffee table, he opened the lid. "This, grasshopper, is a pizza."

"Pizza?" Cassandra looked confused.

"Yup, pizza."

"Pizza lesson?"

Dick laughed. "Kinda. The first thing you need to learn is appreciation for life. Pizza is always a good start. But this is more than just a pizza. This is a Luigi Deluxe with my favorite topping. You know what that is," he asked, pointing proudly at the scattered brown toppings.

A look of horror grasped Cassandra's features as she voiced her guess, "Grasshoppers?"

Dick's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "No! God, I'm sorry. Grasshopper is a nickname from an old…nevermind. It's not important. That's spicy Italian sausage. I'll get us a couple of sodas and we'll chow down." Dick quickly retrieved the beverages, two paper plates, and some napkins. He placed a slice on each plate and handed one to Cassandra.

"There ya go. Eat up," he said invitingly.

"No."

"What's the matter? You don't like pizza?"

Cassandra could only shrug in response. "Not good. Make fat."

Dick chuckled, "Too fattening? That's what Babs says, too. I've got news for you, kiddo. You and I need to eat stuff like this, and lots of it. I've only known you a few months, but it's obvious that you have trouble keeping weight on. Training all day and fighting all night, you're going to start burning muscle with that metabolism of yours…maybe even end up with a vitamin deficiency. You know what Batman eats for breakfast?"

"Toast, fruit."

"Right. That's what Alfred gives him to eat. When he 'changes for work,' you know what he eats? Pop Tarts and Devil Cremes. Full-on junk food, sister. He keeps them in the wall safe behind that painting over his bed," Dick stated with a wink.

"No. Does not," Cassie said in disbelief.

"He sure does. He sends me and Tim out to buy them because Alfred won't, and tips us for smuggling them in under Alfred's nose," Dick replied with a convincing nod.

"Alfred know."

"Oh, of course Alfred knows. You can only keep so many wrappers in your sock drawer before Alfred catches on," Dick said with a laugh. "So eat all you want. Believe me, we'll work it off later, and then some."

Cassandra lifted the slice of pizza to her mouth cautiously and took the smallest of bites. There was a moment of hesitation before her features betrayed surprised satisfaction. The munch-fest was on.

Dick turned on the television and tuned it to a baseball game. He figured he'd listen to the Knights get trounced by the Rockets while he straightened up his apartment a bit. This is not to be confused with cleaning, Dick thought. Cleaning was reserved for Alfred's unscheduled visits. Dick would pretend to help, secretly trying all the while to annoy Alfred ("You shove all that stuff in the closet while I mop the counter, okay, Alfred?") until the kind older man shooed him away. Then Dick would eat whatever food Alfred brought him while he watched the Knights get trounced by whoever they were playing that day. 

That's cleaning. Straightening pretty much just involves collecting dirty dishes from places like the fire escape and under the bed, and piling them in the sink. Then when the sink fills up, he would throw the dishes away ("Alfred, Deathstroke broke in here looking to kill me, but I wasn't here…so he stole my dishes.") and buy more the next time he went to the store to get stuff to fix the shower knob. Housekeeping, by Dick's estimation, is easy if approached efficiently.

Dick ate three slices as he moved about his apartment. He'd just finished sweeping his kitchen floor debris under the small floormat when he saw it.

The last piece of pizza.

He moved casually toward the coffee table, bending over to scoop up the last edible food in his apartment, only to have the pizza box disappear before his eyes.

Logically speaking, he knew she was fast. But even Wally West had never beaten him to the last slice of pizza. Not even once. "C'mon, Cassie. You had four pieces. I only got three."

"No," she pointed at him, eyes narrowed. "Know pizza." Pointing to herself, she added, "Learn pizza."

Dick grinned at her. "I'm not buying that one, Batgirl. Give it up."

"No! Me pizza, grow. You pizza, make fat."

They stood staring at one another, an unspoken challenge in the air.

"…"

"…"

"Please?"

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"Split it?"

There was a long pause. Cassandra looked down at the last piece of pizza, considering her options. She nodded, "Share…partner."

A truce. Hostilities ended, lives saved…

…she gave him the crust.

Cassie and Dick sat and watched the end of the baseball game. Dick looked on in disgust as his team got manhandled by their visiting rivals. Cassie observed in utter confusion. It seemed to her that everyone wanted the ball. The man that most often had the ball kept throwing it at the man with the odd-shaped staff. This didn't make sense to Cassie. He was definitely trying to hit the ball with the staff, but she couldn't tell if he was angry because he missed or because the man kept throwing it at him. Every time the ball was thrown, the man would swing, and the man behind him in the funny mask would catch it.

Cassie could think of eighty-three different ways to use the staff to get the ball from the man in the mask. 

Then again, Cassie was fairly certain she could hit the ball and run around in a circle like other men had earlier (though none wearing a Knights uniform), and she was positive that she could handle any of the men that tried to stop her at the "bases" she ran to. Especially the last base, because she would absolutely hit the man in the mask with the staff before she ran to the first one.

Thoroughly exasperated with his team's performance, Dick changed the channel. Maybe a little college football would cool him off.

He didn't notice Cassandra's face twist into a fearsome scowl. After trying for an hour to comprehend the nuances of one game, now she was faced with another. Now there were a lot more people, the ball was bigger and shaped differently, *all* of the men wore masks, and they were hitting each other. They didn't know *how* to hit each other, but at least they were further along than the baseball players.

Cassie stood and turned the television off. "No more," she said with a sweep of her hand.

Dick opened his mouth to protest, then fell silent. "You're right. You didn't come here to watch my teams lose. Let's see where should we start?"

Cassandra reached down and grabbed Dick by the arm, pulling him to his feet. She then took his place on the couch, her body language making it clear that Dick had her attention. "Talk…teach."

"Trust," Dick stated simply. He spoke no further, and for a full minute, silence reigned.

"Trust?"

"I know it sounds simple, but that's all there is to it, Cass. Trust is the beginning, middle, and end of working with others." He paused, gauging her body language to ensure she was following. Convinced, he continued, choosing his words carefully.

"You know I'm not the greatest combatant in the world. I'm not the strongest, not the fastest, not the smartest, and I don't have super powers. I do have gifts, and one of them is teamwork. Leading, following…I've got it all wrapped up," he said, adding another wink because it always seemed to get a smile from her.

And it did, even as she asked, "How?"

"Trust. You have to know who to trust, when to trust, and how much to trust. And for you there's another step, Cassandra. You have to learn *how* to trust," Dick said carefully.

Cassie's face took on a look of surprise and protest. "Can trust. *Do* trust."

"I know you do. But you don't in action. Being capable of trust isn't enough in what we do. I'll give you an example. Tim is a good partner, right?"

"Yes."

"A good leader, too, yes?"

"Yes."

"Right. As good as he is, he's not great. And he's not going to be great at either for a good while. Why?"

Cassie considered Dick's question. She pointed to her head, "Robin strong here," then to her closed fist, "Strong here," and finally to her chest, "Not strong here."

Dick weighed her reply, nodding his head. "Very good. Tim is exceptionally smart, brilliant even. He's physically formidable, too. But he lacks confidence in himself. He trusts his partners and his teammates, sometimes to a flaw. He just doesn't trust himself enough."

Cassie smiled, pleased that she was on the right track and that Dick understood her.

"You trust yourself completely, but have a difficult time trusting others. Azrael has problems because people have a hard time trusting him."

"You," Cassie stated firmly.

Dick shot her a small, relenting smile. "Okay, by 'people' I mean me. Azrael and I have issues, but that's not the point. Anyway, The Huntress has the same trouble Jean Paul does."

"Nightwing?" 

"Me? I'm good at it because I trust my partners, no matter who they are, and they trust me. Knowing that you have confidence in your abilities and the faith of your teammates, the actual teamwork takes care of itself. Given time, it'll become second nature to you." 

"Bat?"

Dick sighed resignedly, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Batman is a unique case, Cass. Those of us who are 'permitted' to work with him would trust him with our lives. But Batman trusts no one. There was a time not long ago where I would have said he trusted me, Tim, Babs…but I don't think I believe that anymore."

"Why?"

"I wish I could explain it to you, Cassie. Really I do. He just doesn't trust us anymore, at least not with his heart. He's pushing us all away, even me and Alfred. But that's not important right now. You have the right idea. Maybe if we all learn to be his partners, he'll remember what it was like to really have one and let us in."

"Yes. Help."

"Let's help you first, then we'll worry about Batman," he smiled at her encouragingly. "First we need to work on your trust issues. Working alone is a crusade unto itself. You're superb in that department, obviously. But when you work with others, whether leading, following, or in tandem, you *must* trust them to do their part; to do what they do best.

"We put innocents first and ourselves last. Because of that, you have to trust your partner to know when to ask for help. Leaving your objective to assist a partner or teammate jeopardizes your goals and safety. Sometimes it's necessary, and that's the hard part…knowing when to break the rules. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Great. We've got some time to kill before it gets dark, so I'll give you the nickel tour of Bludhaven. Maybe we'll stop in and introduce you to my landlady, and I've got some uniforms to pick up from the cleaners. But we start tonight."

"How?"

Dick turned up the wattage on his smile. "That's simple, Cass. Tonight, we fly," he said.

Her expression turned quizzical. "Fly?"

END PART 2


	3. Flight Night

Cassandra Cain stood atop an 8-story tenement in the Zee Moores, inspecting Bludhaven's skyline. There were several differences in the overall appearance of the city when she compared it to Gotham, her new hometown. Gotham's eerie, almost gothic architecture, ornately decorated with foreboding statues of gargoyles and other mystical beasts, was designed to instill fear. The idea, she surmised, was to have the city's countenance serve as a criminal deterrent, and there was no doubt that the frightening decorations helped foster the terror that her new mentor found so easy to inflict on his prey.  
  
Bludhaven was different, Batgirl observed. There is the same sense of overwhelming unease, perhaps even a bit moreso. But in Bludhaven, fear isn't perpetuated by architecture or by accident. The citizens here remain afraid for their lives simply because their lives are in almost constant danger. Sure, the run-down and haggard appearance of the city doesn't help, but fear permeates everything in Bludhaven, and it runs far deeper than aesthetics and visual perception. Everything feels cold to the touch, even in summer. A deep breath reveals the stench of violence and bitter taste of corruption.  
  
Cassandra felt the city's atmosphere lash out at her senses, and her ears felt the worst of it. Gunshots, screams, sirens…the maniacal laughs of Bludhaven's predators, and the quickly retreating footsteps of their intended victims.  
  
It reminded her of something Robin had once said. "We could go visit Nightwing, but he's back in Bludhaven. That place give me the creeps."  
  
Cassandra had no idea what "the creeps" were, but she was fairly certain that she had just gotten some.  
  
In the thick of this madness was her newfound teacher, Nightwing. Having met only a few times, Cassandra's opinion of the young daredevil wasn't completely complimentary. They had never worked together to any great extent, but he didn't carry himself as a true warrior should. His speech was almost always driven by emotion. He often seemed impatient or frustrated. In contrast to that outward impression, his results were unquestionable. The first time they met, during No Man's Land in Gotham, the Bat had instructed Nightwing to take control of Blackgate prison. The shocked looks on the faces of Azrael and Robin demonstrated their belief that the task was impossible. Cassandra also overheard Oracle discussing her anger at the Bat for assigning such a mission to one person, and her fear that Nightwing may not come back alive.  
  
But he did. Not exactly unscathed, but he survived. And Blackgate was his.  
  
Her trouble with the written word prevented her from doing a thorough investigation of Nightwing, but the visual files in the Batcave and Clocktower revealed a proven track record with Batman, with the Titans, and on his own. The only two people she truly trusted, Batman and Oracle, had the utmost faith in Nightwing's abilities.  
  
Why? What was she missing?  
  
So when Dick told her to sleep, then meet him atop this tenement after his patrol at 3am, she hadn't exactly obeyed. He said that she would need to trust to learn to be a partner, and she wasn't quite convinced that she could trust him with her training. The man she'd met that morning wasn't the hot-tempered, emotional person she had perceived him as. He was very casual and at ease. Affable and funny, almost aloof. But when he began to speak to her as a student, Cassandra found herself mesmerized by his intellectual prowess and quiet confidence. Cassandra likened his personality to a light switch with three settings, and was impressed by his ability to move between them.  
  
The first was obviously Dick Grayson, the man she had met for the first time that morning. The second was Nightwing, the hero whose accomplishments spoke for themselves. And the third…that was the bad one. The third is the man Dick Grayson becomes when the Bat is near.  
  
That was something she'd learned while following after him on his patrol, being careful to avoid detection. Batgirl observed from afar as Nightwing tackled his routine patrol, and was impressed with his fighting skill. Obviously trained by the Bat, Nightwing incorporated his natural gifts and tactical mind into his battle approach. There were also fighting styles that Cassandra didn't recognize, most likely learned from his warrior Titan friends, who had trained with the Amazons, Titans of Myth, and the Warlords of Okaara. The blend made him unpredictable to most, and Batgirl made mental notes to try some of his moves out in her dojo.  
  
About an hour into the patrol, Batgirl discovered the most shocking thing about Nightwing…  
  
There were times when she couldn't read his body language. The way he moved and his perception of movement were unlike anything she'd encountered before. It came in glimpses at first, mostly while he was in combat with unworthy opponents. But then she noticed his head cock slightly to one side, a telltale sign of Oracle calling him over his earpiece, notifying him of something that required his attention.  
  
Batgirl readied a line to follow as Nightwing began his trek across town. After no more than five minutes, he'd lost her. She couldn't keep up. It had been simple enough at first, lagging behind, anticipating his movements. But when he approached a traffic cloverleaf in the center of Bludhaven, a spot where highways, train tracks, and bridges all converged to create a nightmarish maze of motor activity, she was unable to follow.  
  
Cassandra watched slack-jawed as Nightwing bounced from the rooftops of moving vehicles to utility poles and overhead signs and back again, steadily moving forward all the while. At one point, he rolled underneath an oncoming bus, but before Batgirl could fully clutch her jumpline in one hand and medkit in the other, Nightwing emerged on the other side and launched himself upward again, landing smoothly in the back of a pickup truck.  
  
When it was over, when she watched him reach the far side of the enormous intersection, that was when she learned that the real Nightwing is nothing like the man she'd assumed he was. Though he was fully immersed in his daredevil acrobatic feat, smiling the whole time, his senses were obviously still very acute…  
  
Because when he reached the far side, he adjusted the magnifying lenses in his mask as Cassandra had done only moments earlier, then looked directly at her, stuck his tongue out, and waved mockingly.  
  
Batgirl scowled as Nightwing moved away. She sat down on the rooftop and contemplated her inability to read the way he moved. Cassandra had been trained from birth to master that skill. Human movement was a "language" she spoke fluently, perhaps better than anyone on Earth. She had encountered a handful of opponents with similar skills in her travels, but never anyone like Nightwing. It seemed as though he understood movement as she did, yet somehow spoke a different language. In short, to the best of her knowledge, Nightwing had apparently created a method of movement that was completely his own. His perception of what the human body is capable of was unlike anything she'd ever seen.  
  
Even with her level of mastery, she stopped cold when she saw the intersection below her, and began looking for a good spot to secure a jumpline to start her way across.  
  
Nightwing, on the other hand, didn't even break stride. He saw exactly what she had, only his instinctive reaction was, "Okay, I'm gonna grab that utility pole, swing onto the bridge, roll under that bus, vault into the pickup," and so on.  
  
It made her just a little jealous and…what was it Oracle always said? Pissed off. That's it. Batgirl was pissed off. So she decided to start following orders and headed for the tenement. Upon arrival, she simply listened, watched, and waited.  
  
Nearly two hours had passed before she heard his feet hit the rooftop. As she expected, he was trying to sneak up behind her. Cassandra readied herself as he approached. Once he was within range, she struck. In the blink of an eye, Batgirl leapt into the air, spun, and lashed out at Nightwing with her foot.  
  
"Batgirl!" he shouted as he fell backward, avoiding the blow. She scared him half out of his skin.  
  
Cassandra landed gracefully and removed her cowl. "Got you."  
  
"You ALMOST got me," Nightwing said amusedly.  
  
"No. Got you," Cassandra replied, pointing to Dick's face.  
  
Dick reached up and touched his face, noticing at once that something was missing…  
  
Batgirl had kicked his Nightwing mask off of his face. On purpose.  
  
"Whoa."  
  
"You lose me, I scare you," Cassandra stated simply. There was no smile on her face, but there was a slight twinkle in her eyes as she spoke.  
  
She's learning fast, Dick thought. "Fair enough. You ready to fly?" he asked as he reattached his mask.  
  
Cassandra nodded confidently now that she felt she had a better understanding of what Nightwing meant when he said "fly."  
  
He guided her to the edge of the building's rooftop.  
  
"Give me your decel launcher," he ordered, holding out his hand.  
  
Batgirl obeyed without question, surrendering the device that provided her decel and jumplines.  
  
Nightwing then pointed across the narrow street to the building opposite them, which was identical in height. "Okay, I want you to jump to the other rooftop."  
  
Cassandra briefly examined the distance of the jump, then shook her head. "No. Too far."  
  
"Trust me, Cassandra. Just try to get as much height as possible into your jump and you'll be fine."  
  
"Too far!"  
  
Nightwing's eyes narrowed and his voice deepened. "Batgirl, JUMP!"  
  
Trust, Batgirl thought as she took two strides and launched herself from the rooftop. She knew right away that she wasn't going to make it, but held her focus on her intended destination. Just as she reached the apex of her jump, she noticed a shadow looming over her.  
  
Nightwing was above her, having achieved more height and velocity from his jump. When he noticed her height peak, he reached down and grabbed her wrists, then smiled as she instinctively did the same. Now anchored to him, Cassandra felt herself momentarily lifted as Nightwing took control of her direction. He then abruptly tucked into a forward spin, pulling her after him. He released her as he completed his rotation, literally propelling her forward into the air.  
  
She easily covered the remainder of the distance between the two rooftops and landed pat, then turned quickly and scanned the area below her for Nightwing.  
  
"Thanks for the jumpline," a voice said from behind her. She whirled around to face him.  
  
"Again!" she shouted excitedly.  
  
Dick laughed, glad that Cassandra was enjoying herself. "Okay, I'm ready when you are."  
  
Over the next several minutes, they repeated the stunt three more times, ending up back where they started. Batgirl's energy seemed boundless, and Dick was fairly certain that he'd finally found someone who loved flying as much as he did. Tim, Bruce, and even Barbara had all accompanied him many times on his acrobatic jaunts across Gotham and Bludhaven at the end of their patrols. They loved the rush, but the biting air and flowing adrenaline wore them out fast. Dick never understood that. He could spend all night flipping and soaring across the skyline, and would freely admit that responding to a crime in progress was often an unwelcome distraction from his nightly flights.  
  
Cassandra loved every minute of it, and her natural mobility and advanced acrobatic skill allowed her to keep up. Nightwing was convinced that after a few months of flying with him, Batgirl might be able to match him stunt- for-stunt. He landed next to her after completing their fourth jump, and started reeling in his line.  
  
"Now you!" Batgirl demanded.  
  
"Now me what?"  
  
"You jump, I throw," she responded.  
  
Nightwing laughed and motioned for her to sit down. "Cass, you would have to eat a LOT more pizza to be able to throw me. I'll have Babs work up some visual files for you that'll demonstrate the importance of counterbalance and weight. As fun as it is, I'm not trying to teach you to fly tonight."  
  
"No more flying?" Cassandra asked forlornly.  
  
Dick smiled. "We'll fly some on the way home. The idea was to see how willing a partner you are. You did extremely well," he said with a grin as he threw an arm around her.  
  
Cassandra beamed, leaning in a bit for the congratulatory show of affection. This was a very rare thing for her growing up. "Praise" was a word that Oracle had to explain to her, though she never knew it could feel this way. The Bat had told her she'd done well many times, but this wasn't the same for many reasons.  
  
First, Dick was smiling, so his words seemed that much more genuine. Second, his praise didn't seem conditional. Cassandra had the feeling that if she hadn't taken so quickly to Nightwing's flying, he would still be pleased with her for trying. Dick reminded her of Alfred in that way. As a result, there was a lot less pressure, which was why she found the flying so exhilarating and fun. Fun was another thing she wasn't accustomed to.  
  
And lastly, Cassandra was a willing participant. Nightwing taught her things she wanted to learn, and seemed just as interested in her reaction to the training as he was in how well she performed. Nightwing is simply a natural partner and leader, and a part of that, Cassandra reasoned, is making you *want* to work with him. The Bat and her father were excellent teachers, but both are obsessed with successes and failures…especially failures. Neither was big on praise, either.  
  
"Something on your mind?"  
  
Batgirl was shaken from her reverie as Nightwing stood abruptly and returned her launcher.  
  
"No. What next?"  
  
"Well, we've established that you fall very easily into rhythm with someone, at least when you're having fun," Dick answered.  
  
Cassandra smiled her reply. "Fun."  
  
"You and I made a good team just now, and I think you're starting to get the hang of what it takes. You trusted me completely, you didn't panic, and you let yourself have a good time. You understand the point of what we just did?"  
  
Batgirl didn't hesitate. "Yes. What one person can't, two people can."  
  
"Right. It's all about teamwork. Two people, five people, five hundred people…it doesn't matter. What we do is dangerous, and the more we work together, the safer we are out here," Dick said sincerely.  
  
Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "Then why Bat fight alone? Why you alone here?"  
  
"I'm here because Bludhaven needs help. I'm not alone here by choice, though sometimes it is nice to be on your own. After working with Batman and the Titans for so long, I guess I needed to know that I could count on myself. That lasted a while, but now I've got plenty of help. Babs is always close by, so to speak. Tim stops by some, and so do some of my friends. And I've got a partner as a cop, too."  
  
"Now me," Cassandra said proudly.  
  
"That's right, Cass. Now I've got you, too. As for Bruce, that's a different story. Bruce started the same way I did. Talking about how he changed would take the rest of the day."  
  
"No. Let's fly," Batgirl said with a grin as she launched her jumpline and headed for the ledge. Dick matched her stride and they both kicked off the roof together.  
  
"We're gonna get along just fine, Cass!" Dick shouted above the whipping wind as Batgirl's line grew taut and she raised abruptly out of his line of sight.  
  
Nightwing closed his eyes and smiled, waiting until that last precious moment to launch his decel line to slow his descent. It caught and held, and didn't pull tight until Dick reached street level, allowing him the illusion of jumping from the ground like a rocket as the line's elasticity yanked him back into the air.  
  
He aimed himself so that he'd pass Batgirl at top speed, giving her a mocking "meep meep" as he did so.  
  
Nightwing released the line when it began to slack, still rising at top speed. He rode out his momentum and enjoyed his freefall once again.  
  
"Man, something tells me that guiding the next generation of heroes shouldn't be this much FUN!" he yelled.  
  
"Meep meep!" Batgirl exclaimed as she passed him on her way up.  
  
Nightwing and Batgirl's high-flying hijinks continued until daybreak.  
  
Okay, maybe a *little* longer than that, but don't tell Batman. 


	4. Synergy

11 Days Later, Gotham City

"Oracle to Batman."

The Batman finished his descent to a nearby rooftop and activated his communicator. "Go ahead."

"We've got a gang raid at the Great Buy Electronics on Freemont. I have two on the way, but they may need backup," Oracle said.

"Two on the way? Who…," Batman began.

"Black Canary is calling in, Batman. I have to go. Play nice," Oracle interrupted with an air of humor in her voice.

As Batman traversed the rooftops on the mile-long trip to the crime scene, he wondered which two costumed vigilantes Oracle had traipsing around his city this week. Her tacit approval of Black Canary and The Huntress over the last several months had led to a growing roster of her operatives interfering with his patrols. In the last six weeks alone, he'd run into Gypsy, Vixen, and Katana, and there was no guessing how many others he may have missed.

It was beginning to annoy him.

The Dark Knight landed on a building across from the Great Buy shopping center and surveyed the area. A group of about thirty local gang members, The Blades according to their colors, were carrying several boxed televisions out of the store's loading area and putting them into the beds of four pickup trucks.

Batman scanned the perimeter for his unwelcome counterparts, only to see Batgirl and Nightwing launch their attack.

Though he would never admit it, Batman was surprised to see Batgirl back in Gotham so soon. He had "visited" Bludhaven a few nights after Cassandra's departure, and what he'd seen of her newfound partnership with Nightwing did not impress him…

Nightwing's usual patrol was abandoned as he sought out the types of encounters that would test Batgirl's use of teamwork in the field. While Batman did notice some minor improvements in her willingness to follow orders as he spied from afar, she still had a very long way to go.

Too often she would overstep her task and interfere with Nightwing's opponents, causing him to swing at empty space, throwing him off balance, not unlike what she'd done with him back in the Wharf the night she left. To Nightwing's credit, he was making every effort to teach her the consequences of her actions. He would slow his remaining attacks and endure some costly blows to emphasize the hesitation her distractions caused.

But when their fight ended and they returned to the rooftops, Nightwing didn't appear to take Cassandra to task for her mistakes. He spoke to her for a few minutes, and when they left the rooftop to resume their patrol, Batman could have sworn he saw the shape of a smile beneath Batgirl's mask.

It had been two days at that point, and Batgirl had made no visible progress worth noting. Now here it was just over a week later, and Nightwing was already bringing her back to Gotham? Had he given up?

Batman turned his attention back to the fight and prepared to provide the assistance he felt would be inevitable. He activated his communicator again and tuned in to Nightwing's frequency…

Nightwing charged headlong into the fight with Batgirl right on his heels. The loading area in the rear of the store was a wide open space. Batman could see right away that they were sacrificing the flanking position. It would be too easy for their opponents to scatter and make easy targets of them, approaching from the outside middle as they were.

"Batgirl, topside," Nightwing called out as he forced himself into a powerful forward somersault. Nightwing's raised voice caught the attention of the gang, who turned almost in unison to face the charging vigilantes.

Batgirl responded with a simple forward flip of her own, seeming to land with both feet on Nightwing's hands in the middle of his turn. As he came up and completed his rotation, he launched Batgirl high into the air. Nightwing turned another quick somersault and came up, throwing a batarang with each hand, taking out two thugs, the rest of whom were still transfixed on Batgirl's sudden flight.

Batman blinked twice. Batgirl would land directly in the center of the gang, playing to her superior strength in close combat, leaving the perimeter to Nightwing, allowing him maximum space and maneuverability. The gang was instantly flanked and contained, unless they retreated to the inside of the building.

As Batgirl descended, she launched a batarang of her own, connecting squarely with the loading door's electronic control, causing the door to close.

Batgirl landed pat amid daunting odds and went straight to work, lashing out with a series of strikes that floored five men in as many seconds.

Not to be outdone, Nightwing entered the fray from the outside, forcing their opponents inward. From Batman's distant perspective, the ploy was obvious. Nightwing was essentially feeding Batgirl's attack by driving more men into her combat range. Where she would typically drive them away or force them to flee with her flair for savage precision, she now had them coming to her. Without having to give chase, Batgirl was dropping thug after thug like a machine.

Batman could see that the true beauty of the tactic was the sheer lack of ego. Nightwing had no qualms playing the support role, setting them up as quickly as Batgirl could knock them down. The plan itself admitted her battle superiority, and Nightwing seemed to take great pleasure in making her as efficient as she'd ever been.

Brilliant as it was, they were still only a duo. Even with Nightwing's ability to dominate the perimeter in a wide arc, given the ground he can cover with his lightning reflexes and unmatchable acrobatics, the last men standing would still have the opportunity to break ranks and run.

Batman readied a decel line to assist as six men broke off, three in each open direction.

As Nightwing made short work of their remaining targets, Batgirl fired a jumpline high over the heads of one of the fleeing groups. The line caught and held, and Batgirl pulled the line tight just as Nightwing ran up beside her.

"Going up?" she asked, handing the grapnel launcher off to her senior partner.

"Don't mind if I do. Be right back," Nightwing replied as he lifted his weight and let the line pull him into the air at top speed.

Batman hesitated as he saw the plan begin to take shape. The remaining three were running at top speed, right into an alley with no outlet. Batgirl began her pursuit.

Nightwing was already well ahead of, and two stories above, his fleeing bandits. He landed directly in their path and caught the first one in a clothesline before the thug fully registered his arrival. The other two were brought down with a single roundhouse, and Nightwing immediately fired his own jumpline and headed back in the direction of the loading dock.

It appeared to Batman that Cassandra's pursuit was half-hearted at best. Once the gang members realized they were being herded into an alley with no means of escape, they had no choice but to turn on their heels and charge at Batgirl in unison.

Batgirl turned as well, making her way back toward the street.

"Wing-Swing!" she shouted into her communicator as Nightwing landed at the alley entrance. He nodded as she approached.

Batgirl dove head-first to Nightwing's left, and he reached out and grabbed her wrists as she passed. Now her anchor, Nightwing followed her momentum and swung her in a broad circle, wiping out the three gang members, who were several yards behind a moment before, with one sweeping kick at eye level.

Nightwing continued the swing, arched upward, and released. Batman counted three aerial somersaults before Batgirl landed.

"Almost," Nightwing laughed.

Batgirl seemed perturbed. "Four next time," she said.

"Baby steps, Cass. It took me a whole year to throw four. You haven't even been at it two weeks," Nightwing replied as he walked up along side her and gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

"One year?" Cassandra asked, perplexed. "In one year, I do FIVE."

Nightwing laughed aloud, then saw that she wasn't kidding. Given what she'd learned in just ten days, he almost didn't doubt it. "You ready?"

"Back to Bludhaven?" Batgirl asked somewhat sadly.

"Afraid so, kiddo. I'll truss up these three; you head back and start on the rest."

Batgirl pulled a bundle of plastic ties from her utility belt. "Lots there. You help."

"Don't worry, Cass. You'll have help. I'll see you in a few days. Okay, partner?" Nightwing asked with a smile.

"Okay, partner," she replied as she made her way back to the loading dock.

Nightwing waited until she was out of earshot, then activated his communicator. "You'll help her with the cleanup, right?"

Batman knew better than to be surprised that his presence was no mystery to his former protégé. "I will. You need to head back right away?"

Nightwing shook his head. "No, but there's this pretty redhead a few blocks away I've been meaning to visit. Plus it'll give you and Cass a chance to talk."

A moment's silence. "She seems…happy," Batman said, the last word sounding forced.

"Imagine that," Nightwing laughed in response. "Twice a week, Bruce. You should patrol with her twice a week. She needs to know she's not in this alone. I know you're going through some things right now, but you should know that she compared you to David Cain a lot while she was with me. Your crusade's a lot different than his, but it feels the same to her. You can't want that."

Though he knew Dick couldn't see him, Batman hung is head with a show of regret. "Of course not," he replied. "My trust…issues…lately… I don't want any of you to feel that way."

Nightwing made his way back to the rooftops. "Listen, Bruce. I get it. Even if you don't, I get it. Jason? Jean Paul? Harold? You've been burned a few times, and it cut you deep. I feel it, too. But you can't just stop trusting everyone, big guy. Especially not Cassandra, because she just doesn't understand. If you don't let her in, we'll lose her."

"She can take care of herself."

Dick sighed in frustration. "That's not what I mean, Batman. That girl is looking for a path to follow. She was lost without Cain, and if you can't offer her more guidance than he did, she might just follow the first one to show a true interest. I hope it's you or me, but what if it's Shiva? What if Cain gets out and really reaches out to her? She's so impressionable, Bruce. Don't think this whole thing with me and her was about training…"

"I know. It's the first time she's ever reached out. For what it's worth, I'm glad she came to you. What you did tonight… She obviously learned a lot," Batman said.

"Thanks for that," Dick replied sincerely. "That girl… I swear, Bruce, if you take an active interest in her training and really encourage her? She'll be better than all of us. Combined. By, like, next Thursday."

Batman allowed himself a small smile. "Keen observation."

"Was that a joke?" Nightwing laughed. "Did you see her there at the end?"

"She almost threw four," Batman stated simply.

"Yeah! And I'm not sure it was her fault she didn't."

"The throw looked a little weak from here," Batman replied.

"That sounded like another joke," Dick said, feigning exasperation.

"My apologies. Can I ask you one thing, Nightwing?" Batman's tone sounded sincere.

"Of course. Anything."

"Wing-Swing?"

"You're a regular Don Rickles now, huh? Batgirl named it, I just designed it. Wait, let me record this, Mr. Funny Man."

"Batman out."

The connection closed.

"Batgirl."

Cassandra stopped securing unconscious gang members long enough to turn and acknowledge The Bat.

"I saw your work this evening. You both did a great job. You should be proud of yourself," Batman offered sincerely.

"I am," she replied curtly, obviously still angry.

Batman shifted uncomfortably. "I am, too," he said, albeit quietly.

Batgirl looked up at him. "You am what?" she demanded.

"Proud, Cassandra," he responded. "I'm proud of you. Of both of you."

She regarded him for a long moment. "Partner?"

Batman nodded. "We'll work on it. Together."

"Need help?"

"It's been…quite a while since I worked with a partner, Batgirl. So yes, I'll need your help to refresh my memory," Bruce admitted.

"Okay. First lesson…" Batgirl said as she reached toward Batman and removed the cellular phone from his utility belt.

She flipped it open and offered it up to The Dark Knight.

"Call pizza."

END


End file.
